Etchings On Skin
by Baudelaire'sOpheliac
Summary: Its always hard to forget your first love, well sometimes you might, but what are the odds of it happening when your first love was a vampire who left you broken, You become addicted to ink, and you dream of a wolf with eyes you could swear spoke to you? Life never was fair to Bella, and fuck if the Spirits didn't decide to send her a savior even if he was uncouth at best.
1. Compulsions and Cybil

_**A/N ...I know this is a Paul and Bella Story, But our Dear wolf will not be coming into the story until a few chapters in my lovlies so i encourage you all to be patient, it shall be worth it... I truly hope you Enjoy this! Reviews are always very much appreciated, and they help the muses kick my ass into gear!**_

_**'My body is my journal, and my tattoos are my story...'**_

(Bella's POV)

Those without tattoos don't understand how deeply the markings can affect your spirit. They can never comprehend the sheer eroticism of the swift pain followed by pride of having a new piece of jewelry to admire. You can never understand how addictive it is to hear the buzz of the needle, to relinquish all control over to it, nor the adrenaline high that comes with it. There's a release brought by the sharp needles of the gun embedding themselves continuously into your skin a culminating into a harmony between painful and euphoric. Well let's just say that you will never understand the near compulsive need for the pain, the control, and pure adrenaline release that comes with receiving a tattoo. I t was a heady mix that always left me wanting more.

Some people might think I'm crazy, which is okay. There are days when I would find myself agreeing with them—days when I see nothing past my own worthlessness. That's where my needles come in. Everyone is guilty of their own vices, some choose to use drugs, some choose to drink, and some choose to cut. For me though, there was never a choice. My tattoos and piercings define me when I can't speak. There was never any choice other than to use my body as a canvas for art that would depict my life, much better than any story teller ever could; a veritable opus. Words are a double edged sword because they have the ability to destroy as well as create and nourish. Words had failed me too many times to count…so, why speak?

It may seem impossible that inanimate ink could captivate and caress someone. The truth was that my tattoos sang to me, were wrapped around me tighter than a lover. The difference being, where lovers may come and go, my tattoos would always be with me—never straying—always twisting and turning to fit to me. I never had to change myself for them, I wore them with pride. Warriors bear their scars as a testament to what they've survived, what they've conquered. My ink showed that I didn't turn around and play dead in the face of my past. I had been used, I survived, and damn if I didn't live despite the breaks and bruises I carried inside.

That old dad in "My Big Fat Greek Wedding" always said "Put some Windex on it." I say, Ink the hell out of it, and whatever cracks, whatever you can't fix…well it's called superglue for a reason. People tend to be too involved in their own maladies to help you deal with yours. I had found my perfect escape, one where no words needed, but I could find comfort in the knowledge that my art would speak for me.

I'd always had alabaster skin. It was a point of shame for me as a child; I had hated it with a passion. It wasn't until late that I came to appreciate it and be thankful for it. My paleness, which had been the main cause of my alienation and my lack of confidence, was now a point of pride. Everything looks stark on white and for the first time, I showcased something more than a sunburn.

My first tattoo is one that I'll never have the ability to forget…not that I would ever want to do such a thing. I received it in New York the summer before I went to Charlie. Renee had surprised me with the trip as both an "I'm proud you are an amazing student and haven't been knocked up yet," and "Happy eighteenth birthday, I can't believe you managed to survive so long," present, which was great because it worked for the both of us. I got a chance to step down from my mom role and be a teenager for a week, and Renee would have a week to get to know—shack up with—her new "love of my life." Don't get me wrong, I like Phil well enough but when your mother is dating a man who is only a few years older than you, the need to get out of the house becomes great. Renee was never exactly the shy mom who never wanted her daughter to be _impure_. No mine was the type that took me to get birth control when I was fourteen, and then had the sex talk…

In. Graphic. Detail.

Then the woman decided that wasn't enough and proceeded to scald my inner eye with images of various male sex organs. Why one woman ever needs 12 different types of vibrators I will never understand. I cried, she laughed. Then she showed me porn. It wasn't exactly the entry to womanhood one would expect. It would have been better to smack me with a tampon that, at the very least, would have been more subtle.

I guess I shouldn't be too shocked. She was an artist. The only constant in Renee's life was her art work, the only passion that mattered. I had inherited her talent for art. The only thing I took from her. We had different styles but it worked out for us. She was a very successful impressionist painter, and her work had been featured in many prestigious galleries. It was safe to say that we were well off. For the first time in my life, I was happy that my birthday was in June.

**Flashback**

It had been a week since Renee had told me of my trip to New York. I found myself staying at a Holiday Inn faced with a million opportunities, and all I wanted was to explore. So, I walked unworried about trivial things like getting lost. It was hard to accomplish that when you're _gifted _with a photographic memory. I absolutely loved the freedom I had here. I could just disappear within a crowd and gain anonymity. Lost in a crowd of eclectic people I wasn't too pale, skinny, or smart…I wasn't anything and it was refreshing. Here, I was just Bella.

I walked the streets of Manhattan for hours finding myself in an area called Saint Marks. Looking around I saw a storefront named _Billiards Bar_ on the corner of the street. I could hear the sounds of people laughing and the steady thrum of music wafting out. The overall air around me was happy as people unwound from long day's work. I smiled to myself, feeling right at home in this area. I kept walking for a few blocks and saw a shop that stopped me short. A black on white sign with the words "Beyond Inked" caught my eye. Without another thought, I walked in as though some invisible entity was pushing and cajoling me to do its bidding. I could barely hear the light bells ringing or identify the soft music that was playing, as I stepped over the threshold.

I was dazed at the various sights that warred with one another, seeming to simultaneously be calling for my attention. There was no perceivable focal point in this shop. Long glass cases that acted as both counters and receptacles for all the dazzling jewelry glittering proudly behind it, stood polished along one wall. There were gauges, belly rings, nose rings and tongue rings galore.

Jeesh, there was just so much going on! A decorative Shoji screen stood proudly towards the back. Over the low buzz of a tattoo gun I heard the occasional _ouch!_ uttered by a feminine voice, followed by low soothing murmurs saying, "I'm almost done, don't worry it'll only be a couple more minutes," from an unidentified male. I assumed he was the only one here manning the shop.

I decided to wait until he was finished. This place intrigued me, and I continued to study the rest of the shop. From what I could see around the changing screen, there were two empty stations. On the wall above the two were roughly six portraits in different styles and colors, and half-finished stencils tacked upon the board that hung. Huge glass wall-to-wall cabinets stood proud and inside of them were close to a hundred different pipes, bowls, and bongs. It delighted me to see all the different designs. All those colors had me feeling like a parrot thinking _Oh Shiny! _I gasped to myself when my eyes landed on one bong that was so intricately blown, so delicately colored that you couldn't look upon it and see its nefarious purposes. No, this was pure mastery—magnificent, even. The glass intertwined and twisted in so many curves and loops the overall shape was reminiscent of ancient Arabian hookahs. Nozzles jutted from the sides just begging to be worshiped by those who understood its value.

My entrancement tuned—near eye rape of the hypnotizing object—was interrupted by a masculine chuckle from behind me. Shocked at being caught and more than a little embarrassed at how unaware of my surroundings I was, I turned around quickly. Of course, being me I had to go and trip, nearly face planting into the stranger who disrupted my musings. Luckily, I felt two large hands grab my waist, stopping the catastrophe that surely would have occurred. My face, which I'm sure at this point was the color of a plum, stopped mere inches away from his chest. I quickly righted myself and started to apologize, but the "I'm sorry" I was about to say died in my throat as his face came into my line of sight. What little brain function I was left with managed to turn an apology into a squeak.

'Damn,' my inner Hornyella said, and honestly, it was damned indeed. I am not ashamed to say that I drooled a little—okay drooled a lot figuratively— at the sexy man in front of me.

The guy was a prime example of the male specimen. Standing at a little over six foot three with relatively broad shoulders, narrow hips, and with the muscles that I had felt as he caught me he was definitely not lacking in the looks department. However, what really caught my attention and surely the attention of any female with functioning lady parts would have to be his eyes. It seemed at odds with such a large man, but those cobalt blue eyes, framed by thick black lashes that matched a full head of silky hair which begged to be touched, were beautiful. His eyes were flecked with silver that did nothing to detract from their sexiness; those eyes were now looking at me, amused that I had yet to say anything.

His facial features coupled with the Golden hue of his skin screamed Native American to me, despite the rest of him. His overall visage however wasn't, it was a heady mix between Native and outsider, and it was beautifully cohesive. Tattoos ran up both of his bulging arms, and I could see either the beginnings or the ending of another tattoo along his neck, coming up from his chest. I really wanted to lick it. Snake bites graced his bottom lip that had me contemplating whether or not it would be worth the possible assault charges if I bit them lightly.

_'Go for it"_ Bitchella felt the need to tell the rest of me.

_'Bad Bella! Stop thinking about licking_ _and biting a guy you don't know.'_ Rational Bella sternly replied.

_'But he's yummy. Just one lick_, _what's the harm? Pretty_, _pretty please…' _Hoella started begging.

At this point I'm sure the man thought I was a moron. I wouldn't blame him, darting my eyes around the shop looking for that female voice I had heard earlier, but she was nowhere to be seen.

"H-Hi" I managed to stutter while averting my eyes from his, clearing my throat I continued in a stronger tone "What I meant to say was, I'm sorry for tripping on you, kinda happens a lot." Laughing lightly, I finished while shyly rubbing the back of my head.

"Don't worry about it, Poppet. Happens all the time, ladies can't seem to stop falling at my feet." He said in a sultry voice with a grin, head tilted to the side studying me. A lock of ebony hair had fallen over his left eye, and I watched in a trance as he absentmindedly pushed it back, running his fingers through his hair. I might have whimpered out loud…I couldn't vouch for myself at this point.

_'Fuck Me'_ Inner Skankella whimpered, he had a British accent, I'm sorry lady parts, but you can just die now.

_'But what a way to go, Bella_, _what a way to go.' _Hornyella sighed.

_'Great_, _the first time you bitches agree on something and it had to be a man who rendered me incapable of speech. Sluts the lot of you!' _Rational me threw out, stonily.

I once again tried to find my voice as my inner skanks squabbled in my head about this man's sexiness. "Ah yeah, well, I'm Bella." I exclaimed while thrusting my hand forward to meet his.

"Darien," was all he said, holding my gaze for a long moment before reaching out and accepting my hand to shake.

"So what can I help you with today Bella?" He finally said.

"Um, honestly I have no idea. I'm not from here and was walking around and suddenly found myself inside your shop…well, you know the rest. I can leave if it's a bother…" I trailed off unsure of what it was I wanted.

"No, No, you needn't leave on my account. I was simply wondering what a good girl like you was doing inside a shop such as this," he replied smoothly as he casually leaned his lithe form on the glass counter behind him. With one deliciously pierced eyebrow raised at me as though he was genuinely wondering what it was that had me thinking to come inside here.

His look stopped me short. I had to ask myself though, really what it was about this place that had me so sure I needed to come inside. I didn't usually get feelings like I had outside—that imperative—to cross this threshold that was so far out of my comfort zone. I didn't understand it, but for now I wasn't going to question it either.

What really ruffled my feathers was his blatant assumption that I didn't belong here.

Before I knew what I was doing I found myself staring right at him, tilting my chin upwards defiantly as I asked him dryly, "Why would you think I'm a good girl, huh? You don't know me, so what exactly are you basing that on, Darien?"

When I was done I realized I had crossed beneath my breasts, which had caused them to be on display from the neckline of my black tank top. For a split second I saw his eyes flick down—blue eyes raking my body like a sweet morsel—before slowly looking back up and meeting my own before he smirked. Just like that my face, that had finally begun to go back to its natural pallor, was right back to looking like an album cover shade for the next Maroon 5 album.

At this point, Darien was outright laughing at me.

"That's why."

Bitchella took over as my rationality fled the scene. I wasn't accountable for my actions when she was around and this poor man wouldn't know what hit him. Honest. I couldn't even try to stop the crazy hussy. In a move that was almost to fluid for me to have accomplished while in my right capacity. I closed the meager distance between us and slowly ran my hand delicately along his stomach, feeling his muscles spasm involuntarily beneath my touch.

Perching the other hand on his broad shoulder, I felt his hands slide up and grasp my hips, his thumbs rubbing the skin that had peeked out between my jeans and tank. I pushed away the shiver that wanted to take over, wanting to prove to this man that I wasn't to be so easily put in a box and labeled without thought. The hand on his shoulder used the leverage to go on my tiptoes, as I ran my nose along his jawline and laid a light kiss to his Adams apple, moving over to the tattoo I had admired mere minutes before. I felt his hands tighten on my hips as he pulled me flush against him, burying his face into my hair and inhaling deeply. I contemplated my next move before deciding to just give into my earlier urge and licked his neck, biting down lightly and savoring his taste on my tongue for a moment. I heard his breath come out in a short gasp, feeling my victory.

_Finish him! _Skankella hissed in a voice sounding very much like the one from Mortal combat.

I couldn't help but comply, as I put my lips near his ear and all but purred "Now, honestly whatever made you think I was a good girl huh, Darien?"

Then I moved my body away from his and quickly stepped back to my original position across from him, studying my nails and ignoring his panting breaths.

I looked up in time to see that his mouth was opened slightly and that his eyes were half hooded before he shook himself in an attempt, I'm guessing, to rid himself of the cobwebs in his mind. He quickly gathered his wits about him, closed that damned mouth of his and looked at me with new eyes, appraising me. I could see a twinkle come back into his eyes though now it was coupled with grudging respect.

"Well, Bella, it seems that I owe you an apology, Poppet." He said, smirking. "You aren't quite as innocent as those wide hazel eyes seem to belie."

I huffed for a second before giving him a wicked grin and happily exclaimed, "You're forgiven sexy, now about that offer to help me figure out what it is I need from you."

"Whenever did I offer that Ducky?" he asked me with a grin playing at his lips.

"When you decided to misjudge my adorableness for innocence, lover boy." I cheekily replied.

"Well, damn, lass I think I like ya! Come on back with me and we'll throw around some ideas." With that, he turned and walked behind the screen I had been admiring earlier. Again, I will not be ashamed to admit that as he walked further away from me, my eyes decided to glue themselves to his ass.

_It is such a nice ass_, I sighed and followed, suddenly excited at the prospect of having his hands on me, regardless of the reason.

Seeing that Darien was already seated at his station, and was waving his wrist lightly at the now empty tattooing bed; I hopped on it and started swinging my legs lightly. It was downright odd that I was so comfortable around this man—who I had only just met and basically molested—but I wasn't about to question my luck. It felt like this was an important crossroad for me. I knew I could walk out; no one would have lost anything but a few minutes. Yet something within me urged me forward and I looked at Darien, who at this point was sitting with his back leaning on the wall, his eyes indiscernible.

A few minutes ticked by as we sat observing each other, nothing passing between us, yet each tick of the clock seemed to signal a deeper connection between this beautiful man and myself. The longer we stared at one another the surer I became that I should be here—needed to know this man—that I could trust him.

I broke the silence after what seemed an eternity and asked "What's on your mind, Darien?"

He continued staring for another long minute, and at this point Bitchella had gone back to her corner sleeping contently at her earlier victory, the other psychos in my mind following suit, leaving me to my own devices. I ducked my head down, breaking the eye contact, and hiding behind my hair to stare at my Converse clad feet, that wouldn't stop their unholy swinging. It was a nervous habit I seem to have picked up only recently.

So focused on hiding from the crazy feelings that were coming over me, I was startled when Darien uttered my name.

"Bella I-" he stopped, looking like he was struggling to find the right words. "I don't understand what's going on here, Poppet, but this," he said while raising one hand to gesture at the distance between us, "feels like there's more to it than a serendipitous walk-in client. I can't explain it and I don't necessarily think I need to, but I just wanted to let you know, I feel it too." He nodded at me in a decidedly resolute manner when done.

Mouth open, all I could do was stare blankly at him—a little shell shocked that he had just explained what I had been feeling—eventually managing to shake my head up and down dumbly at him.

With a satisfied sigh that seemed at odds with such a man, Darien once more shook his head and grinned. "So are you interested in a tramp stamp, love?" and just like that the spell was broken and everything was light once more.

I gave him a playful glare and said, with a voice as sweet as sugar cane, "Only if you're willing to have your genitals meet with the needles of a tattoo gun, Doll face." The utter air of betrayal and mock anger on his face had me busting out in laughter at how affronted he looked. After a moment or two of my senseless cackling I heard Darien join in with me.

"Okay, okay I get it, I deserved that one Poppet, but don't think you're coming anywhere near '_Il Commodore'_with your harpy like ideas wench!" With that he cupped himself almost lovingly as his body shrunk in on itself to protect his precious manhood before actually speaking to his junk. "Shh, precious, I won't let the crazy lady get to you. You're safe."

It was quite the scene, one that had me in tears as a new batch of laughter wracked my slender frame. Once I finally managed to control myself I gasped out a question that was driving me insane.

"D-did you actually just talk to your dick, Dare? What the hell made you call it **_'_**_Il Commodore?_' Seriously…just why?"

Finally removing his hands away from his junk he replied proudly, "Because doll, once you ride me, you'll be filled with riches and enjoying some smooth sailing. Plus, I think you caused him irreversible emotional scarring with your psychotic ideas of harming him." All this was said with a straight face. My brain at this point surely resembled a heart rate that had just flat lined.

It was a good half a minute before I managed to snort lightly at the reasoning behind it, shaking my head.

"Dork!" Enough said.

"Shut up, Casper, don't hate." That response earned him a decidedly heated glare from yours truly.

"Point taken, _Commodore_." I said sarcasm dripping sweetly from my tone. I pranced happily over to his prone figure at the station and patted his cheek. "Now let's get crackin, I wanna get this started."

With those words Darien grabbed a fine tipped pencil and a sketchbook filled with paper so thin it seemed to be on the verge of destruction if you merely looked at it. Fixing those damn eyes of his on me again. "Tell me about you, B." he commanded me. So I did. It seemed I had no filter as I told him snippets about everything. The man was now a Bella thesaurus by the time I was finished. I told him about the Black's, my father, Renee, I told him of my responsibilities, and the pressures. My verbal vomit seemed to have undergone a no-holds-barred stance.

While I spoke, he just sat silently sketching; once in a while he would fix his stare on me as though trying to discern something.

I couldn't really understand what the point of this exercise was, but he seemed to know what he was doing so I went with it without much griping. When I was done, I sat quietly contemplating what had just happened. I'd be lying if I said that this experience took nothing out of me, but after telling him so much about myself I felt as though I were marginally lighter despite my emotional fatigue. I was lost in thought as I listened to the music that finally made its way into my consciousness.

The first notes of Apocaliptica's _'I Don't Care'_ began and I gave myself over to it. I hadn't realized I had started singing until the song was over and I looked towards my still mute partner-in-crime, only to see him staring at me in surprise.

"What?" I asked.

"Nothing I just didn't know you could sing. It was…lovely." he said softly, not wanting to break the mood.

"Just because I cackle when I laugh doesn't make me tone deaf, but it's not all that." was my witty reply.

"You have a problem with compliments, don't you?" his eyes hard, staring me down almost challenging, daring

me to oppose his observation. I didn't, I couldn't really refute his claim, and so there wasn't a point in trying.

"Just let it go Darien, please." I said, begging him. I started rubbing my eyes, suddenly tired. This had become too deep, too fast.

"I-I'm sorry Bella, you're right. I'm taking liberties I have no right to yet, but I couldn't help it. It just feels absurd that we've only just met, you're almost like a long lost friend, that I've finally found once again. I can't help but feel a bit protective of you, even when it's to protect you from yourself. It's ridiculous…you're still in high school, only just legal and I'm 23, but I can't deny that this whole situation is bloody surreal. Forgive me for overstepping my bounds."

His eyes bore into mine, beseeching me to believe him, to forgive him. I was helpless against the slew of emotions that were currently inundating me, so I didn't bother questioning them. I didn't worry. For once, I stopped thinking, stopped worrying, and I just let myself be. I let myself act my age, in spite of or maybe because of my rationality.

I mustered up my strength and forced myself to look at him and said "I do, you have nothing to worry about. I know what you're saying, Dare, and I agree, but I just need it to be a little less intense…at least for now. I'm only here for another six days. We should both get to know one another, and we should make the most of it yeah?" I looked at him, waiting for a reply, hoping he would agree, and he didn't disappoint.

"Definitely, how about we order some food or maybe lock up the store and go somewhere? I need to get out for a while." He offered, I took a moment to think about it before I told him to lead the way.

Getting up from his perch, he grabbed his wallet and phone tucking each into separate pockets, then offered me the crook of his arm in a gentlemanly fashion. Slipping my hand onto the proffered appendage, we walked out into the busy night street after making sure everything was locked and taken care of, and away from the shop. All thoughts of the sketches were momentarily forgotten as we walked lost in our thoughts.


	2. Of Shoji Screens and Peacock Feathers

A/N ... Hey sorry this took a while i was kinda sorta moving which i seem to do quite often, any who i hope you all enjoy this. Reviews are greatly appreciated so tap away once you're done please 3...Lots of love and Happy Meditations  
- Baudelaire's Opheliac

"Heavily tattooed women can be said to control and subvert the ever-present 'Male Gaze' by forcing men (and women) to look at their bodies in a manner that exerts control."

**A Few Blocks Away From the Shop**

We didn't have to walk far it seemed as, Darien led me into a street filled to the brim with people where shops and signs lined every nook and cranny. This place felt untouched by the rest of the world. No one could ever call this place conventional; my eyes greedily took in the sights, women wearing corsets reminiscent of the Victorian era sported hair in every color one could imagine. There didn't seem to be a gender gap here, men and women alike were covered in tattoos and piercings, interacting, laughing, and enjoying themselves without being bogged down by societal expectations. Even the babies here seemed to rock to their own beat, wearing shirts that boldly said, **_'I'm with the band,'_** another saying, **_'Whose tit do I have to suck to get a drink around here?'_** It was fascinating; I was enamored by everyone's ability to not give a shit.

"Over here, B" Darien called suddenly, pulling me from my musings. Turning left and leading me, with a hand on the small of my back, down three steps and opening a door I hadn't noticed before. The ambiance inside was decidedly Asian. Low lighting made for a calm feel, the scent of incense lingered lightly, and small bonsai trees decorated each table. I was already liking his choice of venue. We were seated right away, given menus, and left to choose our orders.

Still, Darien and I had yet to speak. I found that I appreciated his ability to bask in silence, that he didn't feel the need to disrupt the peace with mindless chatter. My ears picked up the haunting notes from the music playing. It surrounded me, caressing me as the Japanese flutes and reeds merged with a single piano to create a soft melody, and I was lost in its imagery. I hadn't noticed that I was zoned out until I heard a light cough, which startled me. Looking up, I noticed the worried look upon the face of my dining partner.

"What's wrong?" I asked him, apprehensive at what had made him frown.

"Nothing's wrong with me, lass, I've just been trying to get your attention for the past two minutes, but you were pretty out of it. Do you not like this place?"

"NO," I said a little too forcefully. While trying to rectify my faux pas, I continued in a softer tone "No, this place is perfect. I love Japanese food…I'm a sushi fanatic actually. I'm shocked how spot on you were when you chose this place."

And just like that, cocky Darien was back in play looking at me with eyes that could only be described as lascivious as he said with a smirk, "What can I say, Petal? Any hot blooded male needs to know how to please the birds. I couldn't possibly disappoint you, now could I? "

I couldn't stop the snort that made its way out. "Yeah, Darien, this '_bird__**'**_ wasn't exactly slack jawed back at the shop. In fact, if memory serves me, _Mister hot blooded_, it was you that was panting, were you not?" I was laughing lightly by the time I was finished with his dressing down.

_'Um, did you forget the mental drool fest that you had going on back there B?'_ Bitchella asked.

_'Oh shut up, he doesn't need to know that, Jesus.' _ I mentally grumbled back. _Whose side are you on anyways?_

"Can't you just go with it love? Blimey you try to impress a lass and what does she do? She mocks your prowess." His theatrical huffing was amusing all on its own but it wasn't until he had crossed his arms together like a wayward child, was I incapable of holding in my laughter.

"Really, Darien, where the hell do you come up with this shit?" I said jokingly, which of course set off another round of our bickering. I could see this was going to become a habit, it was impossible for us not to hound on each other. I was happy to note that the earlier tension that I'd felt at his sheer gorgeousness had tempered down to deep affection. We didn't stop our bickering until the server had come back to take our order, quickly leaving us alone once more.

"Is it going to hurt?" I piped up suddenly, finally voicing a fear that had been bothering me since I had sat down, and watched as Darien sketched. I wasn't exactly a stranger to pain, but I did want to know exactly what I was getting myself into.

"Yes," he replied. Without further prompting, he stared at me seriously as he continued, "It's going to start out like a light prick of a needle making you think it's alright, and then in waves you'll start to feel like there's a rabid cat scratching at your skin, followed by the feeling of lighter fluid being rubbed into the wound. It's great."

I sat there slack jawed at his blunt description of what it would be like.

At the look on my face, he sighed and said in a softer tone, "Listen Poppet, everyone is different, and each person reacts differently. I was just giving you an idea of how bad it can really get. I don't want to tell you that it's going to be roses and rainbows. No matter what it's going to end up hurting, be it minutely or acutely you will feel something when that needle touches your skin. However, it might not be that bad for you, I can't really say. What I can however say with absolute certainty is that at some point the endorphins will kick in and then it's going to feel amazing.

The worst part in my opinion is going to be the end, the shading. At that point you will be tired and while a tattoo such as yours would normally take two sessions, you won't be here long enough to give your skin enough time to heal before going in again.

We're going to have to knock this out in one session. The pain is worth it, it's something that will become important to you with each nerve, prick, and drop of blood. You won't be able to handle anything touching your skin for at least a week, maybe more, but it's something you will keep for life. Of course, you can choose to not go through with it at all, which would be fine as well. I just refuse to sugar coat it, but that's just my opinion…yours is the only one that matters. "

By the time he was finished with his speech I was a little bit more collected than before, but not by much. I sat there worrying at my bottom lip, contemplating my choices, and needing to know more, if it would be worth it. From what he was saying, it would be, and once again something was pushing at me telling me that I needed to do this.

Darien grew silent once more, granting me the time to process everything he had told me, a gesture I was truly appreciative of. He didn't push, just laid it all out on the table for me and let me make the choice of my own volition.

"Wh-" I was cut off before I could ask Darien by the food arriving at our table. My mouth salivated as the familiar scent of miso soup wafted up from their bowls and the artfully set plates of sushi that were placed on the table.

Darien and I raised our spoons making identical moans of appreciation as the delicately light concoction made its way into our mouths, smoothly gliding down before settling in our bellies. This was the yummiest soup I'd ever tasted. Finally, after we both had our fill of the mouthgasmic food, I looked up at Darien and actually managed to ask my question.

"What were you sketching when we were talking? I mean, I'm really interested in the idea of getting inked, but you have to understand that I can't make a decision without seeing your concept."

"Shit, I forgot to show it to you didn't I? You're perfectly right; I thought I had already shown it to you." he admonished himself.

"How about we head back to the shop now and we'll get everything out of the way?" he suggested, while raising a hand to call over the waitress, making the universal sign for 'check, please!'

"Sounds good to me."

**Back at Beyond Inked**

After we'd paid, we left the quaint restaurant and walked back to the shop, comfortably full and content. Once again, I found myself sitting on the table with my legs crossed while he rummaged across his desk searching for the piece.

Dairen had picked up the sketch book and handed it to me. I quickly grabbed it and looked down at what he had drawn for me, and was floored. I didn't know what to look at first. The artist in me all but salivated as my eyes were greedily looking over the image splayed out in front of me.

Finally able to focus, I studied the page. On it lay an excruciatingly detailed drawing of a dream catcher hanging off of a small corded rope, with spider webs intertwining to create a deeper textural feel. In the middle of the web written in beautiful calligraphy were two words _'lobq5/a'_ and _'lawatsq5kil_ _'_. I didn't understand what they meant, and I made a mental note to ask him later. There was some type of plant that had wrapped itself around the circular object and was interspersed within the webbing with one tendril touching the unknown word. The plant itself had tiny elongated flower petals all clustered together. I continued down, seeing that there were three different feathers hanging down at the bottom of the dream catcher, each one more magnificent than the last. I was shocked at the detailing of each separate feather, the longest and by far most elaborate was a peacock feather broken into two separate endings, creating the illusion of eyes.

It was roughly six to seven inches, each delicate pinnate stood out and I could only imagine how the colors would end up shading this beautiful pinna. Next was an owl feather that I believed to be that of a horned owl, each zig-zag overlaying one another. Finally a sable colored raven's feather lay on the far left, looking soft enough to touch, with a throng of small ravens flying away. Immediately, I knew where I wanted this beautiful portrait to grace my body.

I was finally able to tear my eyes away and looked at Darien, who I realized had been studying me this entire time, trying to gauge my reaction. "I-" my voice broke slightly, so I coughed a little to clear it, and continued "I don't know what to say, Darien…th-this is beautiful…but why?

"You have to promise to hear me out, don't scoff, and just listen." He said in a serious voice.

I was a little taken aback at the intensity in his eyes and commanding tone that had come from his throat. I could only nod my consent.

"This is going to sound completely batty, but I'll try to explain it anyways. You told me of your relationship with the Black kid; it stood out to me as something important, integral to who you are now and who you will become. I can't explain everything such as the term that describes you perfectly. It wouldn't make sense if I told you its meaning now; you're not ready to know." I huffed at that.

He leveled me with a look that had me shutting up quickly and looking down feeling like a child whose hands were caught feeding the neighborhood cat when they shouldn't have.

Seeing that I was listening properly now, he continued. "Your bond with the Quileute people as a whole seems unfinished. I feel like there's still much that has yet to come to pass. I feel it, I know it somehow. This tattoo will not only represent them and honor your memories but each aspect is something that either defines you or is something you will need in your life. The dream catcher is because I sense that you will need protection in one form or another. The plant that is intertwining the catcher is known as Birdie's feather. Its properties are medicinal and used mostly in poultices as a healing agent, and you will need it. In ancient Egypt, feathers were said to be a measure for your soul. Upon the death of ones' physical body the goddess Ma'at would weigh the heart against that of a feather to see how pure of heart one was during their existence. To gain entry into the afterlife, the heart must weigh less than the feather." He paused momentarily to take a deep breath.

It seemed daft of me to believe him, but he sounded so sure of everything he was saying. How could I judge him just because what he said wasn't conventional? I was the one who had walked in here because of a damn feeling.

"The feathers are another matter altogether. The phoenix is a bird known for its nobility, its integrity, and incorruptibility, while the peacock was said to rejuvenate self-esteem. So, when people make you doubt your self-worth think about this, and remember that they know nothing. The peacock also represents self-awakening, visions, and luck. You are kind, compassionate, patient; you continue to be optimistic despite what life has thrown at you. However, you aren't stupid, rather you are quite astute. Peacocks were said to be the "Bird of a thousand eyes," signifying its ability to notice things, you seem to be the same. You, just like the animal, are both externally and internally beautiful, you need to own it."

For what seemed like the millionth time tonight my face grew warm as I started to protest his claim, but he cut me off before I could utter even a sound, leaving me to bite my lip in nervousness. His cobalt blues shutting off cognitive abilities.

"No, Bella, you don't have to see it today or even tomorrow, but you are all those things and more. Eventually you will see your self-worth, and when you do, God help the male race. Now, let me finish woman, where was I? Ah, yes...owls represent protection against evil spirits; it's a wise creature, one that cannot be lied to. It is all knowing. Use that to remind yourself to keep an open mind, without naiveté. Many Native Americans think this animal is a sacred one along with the raven. The Quileute people used owls in ceremonies such as the Tlokwali ceremony. Raven's feathers are both a representation of the Quileute Raven tales and also signify death, and rebirth. The raven is an honorable creature." He said with an air of finality surrounding him.

I thought it over, mulling everything he had said. I couldn't pass up this opportunity. There was no way I was going to be able to leave this place without being marked by him, nor was it possible to leave without forming a lasting connection with this man.

"I want to go through with it, Dare."

"You're absolutely sure?" He asked me.

"Without question." I really was, the thought of having that magnificent artwork on my body made my inner artist lay in a puddle of sheer aroused happiness.

"Okay, well let's figure out where you're going to place i-"

I didn't even let him finish the sentence. I was so excited that I nearly yelled "Iwantitonmyleftrib," unintelligibly.

"Huh?"

"Ha-ha, sorry…what I meant to say was, I want the tattoo placed on my left rib, right below my breast and have the ravens coming up my back, that way the tip of the peacock touches my hip." I grinned at him.

"Blimey, Poppet, did you already think of everything? Well, no matter, let's get you prepped, yeah?"

"Uh, huh. What do you need me to do, Dare?" I was nearly vibrating with my need to speed the process along.

"I'm going to need you to take off your shirt, so that I can disinfect and shave the area. After I'm done with that you're going to have to also remove your bra while I get the stencil ready to transfer to your skin."

With that I got up from my perch and proceeded to divest myself of the tank top. By now, one of his glove covered hands was holding a razor, the other a wet paper towel and proceeded to shave my side. Next, he readied the stencil and imprinted the image to my skin. A few moments after removing the waxed paper, I saw the outline on my ribs and my body broke out in goose flesh at the sheer expanse that would cover my skin.

"Alright, Bell. Bra off, please."

As I was taking off my bra, my back given to the front of the store, I held the evil-boob-hiding-contraption-from-hell to my chest as I walked back to the massage table.

Out of nowhere, professional Darien proverbially face planted out, and in his place was perverted Dairen, who exclaimed loudly, "SIDE BOOB" and proceeded to poke me.

Now, I know I'm not the most graceful chick in the world, but I did manage to keep my bra attached to me with one hand as the other laid a resounding 'SMACK' to the back of his head…It hadn't been a light smack either.

"Hey, what did you do that for!" He yelped; rubbing the back of his now, surely, sore head.

"You Poked My Boob!"

"It's not my fault! It was staring at me!" The smarmy bastard had the gall to say.

I raised my arm to smack him again, but the handsy bastard had already rolled in his chair just out of reach, his hands thrust up into the air yelling, "I come in peace!"

He waited until I had lowered my hand and fixed him with a withering glare before he came slithering back. A wide unrepentant grin was on his face and he tried cajoling me, "Oh come on love I was just poking a bit of fun at you. It really was staring at me, in my defense. It's not my fault that you have such nice rack. See? Not. My. Fault."

"Men…I still can't believe you poked my tit. You're an ass."

"Just the side." was his response.

"Yes, that makes it so much better, England" I said, dryly.

"Okay, Okay, I'll try to restrain myself from doing it again." He claimed. We both knew that he would do no such thing. Even with the little time I'd known the man, I knew he wasn't the type to censor himself. That lack of a filter was something that endeared him to me, just not when it meant there would be pokeage.

I voiced my thoughts to him, to which he laughed saying, "Well of course, it'll happen again. You'll live, love, and if it makes you feel better you can poke me too." (A/N this situation actually happened while I was getting my first tattoo, my best friend was a piercer at the shop and the asshole actually did that.)

"Fine, fine, letting it go _Pepe_." I finally sighed out.

"_Pepe?"_ he questioned as he started to set up all the inks in tiny little caps, wiped down the table I would be laying on, and finally turned to me and asked me if there was any music I wanted to play.

"Yes _Pepe_!" At Darien's empty look, I explained further.

"As in, _Le Pew_, the loony tunes character. He was a pervy little skunk that would run around saying things like, _'You know, it is possible to be too attractive," or_ '_This little love bundle. Now she is seeking for us a trysting place. Touching, is it not? Come, my little peanut of brittle. I will help you. Wait for me. Wait._'

"Or my personal favorite, '_What is this? Oh, but of course. This little one wishes to commit suicide to prove her love for me. What a sweet gesture. Nevertheless, I must prevent it'_." I told him in a horribly cheesy French accent while connecting my iPod to the iHome that Darien had set up near his station and putting it on shuffle.

He sat there staring at me with a look that said, 'I'm not sure if you need therapy, or me for having listened to that.'

After a minute he started chuckling and asked me, "Should I be insulted, or honored since it seems that you have the little bugger's lines memorized?"

"Nah, you shouldn't feel insulted. Pepe was my favorite Loony tunes character. Anyways, moving on," I chuckled out. I understood that he had perved out on me so I could relax, and fortunately it worked. Once again, the little bastard knew what I needed.

"Okay, if you're ready we can begin. Just come here and lay down and we'll start." He told me, pointing to the long massage table, as he changed his gloves, picked up the tattoo gun, and placed his left foot onto the connecting pedal as he tested the guns fluidity.

Once he saw that I was lying down with my arm above my head, he came closer with some A&D gel, smearing it over my rib where the needle would start tattooing from. This was going to be a long day. I took a deep breath, looked at Darien, and nodded my consent for him to start.

I focused on keeping my breathing calm and not tweaking out as I felt the first prick of the needle pierce my skin.

_Hey Bitchella, why aren't you the one out here dealing with the pain huh?_ I inquired, internally.

_You're insane if you think I'm going to be the one out there dealing with that shit. I'm crazy_, _not a masochist. Although_, _the fact that you would throw me to the wolves shows that you're a sadistic little bitch. Nope_, _I'm gonna be huddled in here saying_, **_I think I can, I think I can, I think I can,_** _as I plot ways to end you without my demise occurring._ She huffed at me.

_Where are your balls of steel now_, _Bitchella?_ I shot back at her, a little miffed at the 'Sadist' comment.

_They went up the chute when I saw sex eyes over there holding a needle near me, hoe. Although_, _B, I will say that I wouldn't mind being a sadist if it was Darien I got to tie up. I'll even let him do the same. See_, _honey I can be fair._

_Here, Here!_ Skankella piped up.

_I agree, let's tie Darien up and have our wicked way with him._ Hoella exclaimed, right after.

_You're all a bunch of brazen hussies aren't you?_ Rational me piped up. Apparently they didn't get the **_Feelings that Dairen is a sibling/best friend memo_** the rest of me had felt earlier. Jesus.

I snorted accidentally, and didn't notice that it had been out loud until, Darien's voice break through my inner squabbling with myself.

"Hey, ducky, what's going on in that devious mind of yours?"

"Nothing, I'm just trying not to freak the fuck out, over here."

"I can't help you with the pain, but maybe I can help take your mind off of it for a bit." He offered

"What do you have in mind— actually I know how I want you to help."

"You do huh, tell me what it is, ducky." he laughed casually.

The vibrations that had so far been a minor ache became a touch unbearable. "Fuck that's starting to smart." I gritted my teeth for a minute waiting for my body to start tolerating the pain. I swear, it felt as though he was rubbing gravel into the wound every time he would use a paper towel to wipe the blood, the only relief I had was how soothing the cold gel would feel.

Once I could think past the pain I answered his question. "Yeah, I want you to talk to me and tell me about yourself. You know nearly everything important about me. Like you said, we have this freaky unexplainable connection, so I expect to know something about you. I'm giving you fair warning that I'm keeping you and before you ask, no you do not have a choice in the matter. So, don't make me go all Gollum on your ass."

"Not to mention, I've been laying here for the better part of two hours, with my breasts in a free-for-all. I'd feel better if we were talking." I stopped before I could work myself up any further and watched as he stepped back to change the gun and dipping it into one of the colors. I assumed we'd begin shading now.

"Long winded little thing aren't you?" I just glared at the moron. As I was about to retort, I saw his eyes...something in him looked fucking terrified at the thought of speaking.

"Don't evade, if you aren't ready to talk about yourself, it's fine. I won't hold it against you, but I will expect you to take me on as an apprentice and teach me the trade, so to speak. It fascinates me."

He shot me an appreciative look for changing the subject and clearing his throat, he responded "Well that depends on you, Poppet—can you draw anything other than stick figures? I wouldn't mind having you as an apprentice, honestly. "

Keeping back my smirk was impossible when I heard that. "Have you ever heard of _Renee Godard?"_

"Who the fuck hasn't, her last exhibit on the _Sexuality through Glass_ was bloody brilliant." He snorted, looking as though he were awed by the mere mention of her name.

"That's mummy dearest. I take after her on that front, so yeah I can draw beyond stick figures." Mimicking his accent rather horribly I enjoyed the surprise on his face as everything finally registered in his mind. He didn't say anything for a while, continuing his torturous inking.

"Okay. However, you better not think that that I said yes because of who your mother is. Either way, I'd need to see your skill in front of me—maybe a portfolio if you have one—before we can really start your apprenticeship. The distance is an issue however; I'm not sure what we can do about it."

"Well the portfolio won't be a problem. I'm sure Renee would fax it over; the distance issue would be even less of a problem. I'm sure she would love time to spend with her newest toy. I can extend my trip for half the summer; I'll let you know for sure after I talk with her."

"That's perfectly fine with me. I'd love having you here for a while." The giddy look on his face was _almost_ enough to distract me from the pain. It had me hissing through my teeth at Darien when he roughly rubbed my skin with yet another demonic paper towel.

"Cock-sucking-son-of-a-whore- OW!"

"Sorry, Bella, I can't help you with that, but we can take a break. You've been laying here for almost three and a half hours, hon. Do you want a smoke break or something?" he offered.

"Can I buy a fuck yes, Alex?" Screw buying a vowel right now, my skin felt abused as fuck. "Well bathroom break then smoke break. Now, I'm not usually a smoker—never to be honest—but fuck, I need something to get rid of the edge right now. "

"Oh, Poppet, that's going to be quite an amusing sight to see. We're almost done with your tattoo, maybe another hour or so, but I'll still need to cover it up while you move around now." After doing just that, I went to the bathroom, deciding on a whim to call Renée to run my idea by her. She readily agreed to let me stay for a month or so before going back to her in Phoenix. I wasn't shocked at her quick approval. My mother was the poster child for 'Freedom'. She told me to have fun, have sex, and not get knocked up, after asking why I would be staying. It was beyond a head desk moment, but that's just her.

My movements were decidedly slow, the ache in my ribs made itself quite known. When I got out of the store, Darien, who was already smoking, wordlessly handed me a cigarette, and waited until I had it resting between my lips, before he lit it.

The first drag was disgusting, went down the wrong pipe, and it had me coughing up a lung while _Pepe_ laughed until he was choking. When I could finally talk, I looked at him and said, "Laugh it up, asshole and here I was thinking that Renee's acquiescence for our situation was a good thing. Maybe I'll just rethink it and leave as planned." I was just jerking his chain, something I'm sure he knew. I kept taking drags as we spoke and it was getting easier; the buzz that I got from it was lovely, and definitely made up for my near death experience with it, first.

"Oh, come on, you wouldn't think of leaving this gorgeous piece of man meat." He threw an arm around my shoulders and brought me in for a hug.

I snorted before I could stop myself. "Shut up, Darien. Now I'm staying a month so you best make the best of it. You need to refer me to a good place to stay for a while. The hotel's great, but I'd prefer to cook for myself if I can help it. "

"Well, I'm not trying to freak you out, but you could always stay with me. I have an extra room that I haven't rented out yet."

**A Month Later**

It had been a month since that fateful day. I had ended up staying with Darien, and after much squabbling and fighting, he finally agreed to let me pay rent and groceries…but only if I let him give me my tattoo for free. I had just looked at him like he was insane, but eventually acquiesced. My tattoo was another matter altogether. Once Darien was finished with it, I had engulfed him in a bear hug, thanking him over and over. It was more amazing than I had previously imagined. His eye for detail, and seamless blending, coupled with the clean lines and his abilities for shading made for a drool worthy piece. I was in love with it. It had changed something in me and I felt more comfortable in my own skin.

Living with Darien for that month was an experience of a life time. Renee had managed to collect herself long enough to send me some clothes and my portfolio. I learned that while he may be a relatively chill man, Darien turned into an absolute slave driver when it came to learning the craft. I spent hours upon hours learning different techniques, I sketched and re-sketched, and then sketched once more. He didn't believe in tracing, which I respected him for. My artwork had actually improved under his insane schedule. The funniest situation that had occurred was the day he allowed me to actually touch his machine.

It was a Goddamn disaster. He had the _oh-so-brilliant_ idea of having me try to practice my control by tattooing a tomato. The damn thing exploded not even a minute after the needle had touched it, red innards flew everywhere. My face looked like a crime scene in the making.

He wasn't too horrible, however. It's not like he kept me under lock and key.

I had relatively endless freedom, especially after I whipped his ass into place using my culinary skills. The poor guy would do anything for my chicken Alfredo. It was quite amusing, actually. All I had to do was threaten to stop cooking and he would turn into roses and sunshine. The first time I'd cut him off of my food he'd turned to me with puppy dog eyes, on bended knees and clasped hands as he begged. "C'mon Poppet, you don't want a growing man like me to starve. Please don't take away the food. I'll do anything, woman!"

Over time, I was able to find out snippets about his past. His mother had been one of the leading experts on Native American cultures, her specialty being languages, which had finally explained to me how the hell he had known so damn much about the subject when he had sketched my tattoo. I found that he got those same weird ass feelings I did. Neither of us could really explain it, but it did explain why he had been inside of his store on a Monday. I knew now that it was the one day that he usually chose to close shop, or at least delegate it to one of the other artists when a client needed it. He had known that he needed to be there, so he made himself free for it. I also found myself picking up his weird colloquialisms. The term 'Bloody hell' was now Bitchella's favorite word to say.

Darien had managed to become my best friend in those few short weeks, and it felt as though time was in fast forward the entire month. Actually, he had become more than that…he had become my brother. I loved that we didn't have any more awkward moments between us. The tension that had been there previously had fizzled over time. That's not to say the guy stopped being a handsy motherfucker. I don't think he would ever stop. It became normal for him to have headaches from all the smacks he received from me.

I was set to leave the next morning and he had already taken my bags into the trunk of his car. Afterwards I was lying on Darien's couch, my head on his lap as he played with my hair, watching some trashy show about housewives who bitch at each other. It had become a ritual for us to lay here after work, turn on a random channel and lose ourselves in the mindlessness.

"I'm going to miss you, ducky. This place is going to feel empty without you here."

He sounded so sad it broke my heart. "You know I'll be back to see you soon, Dare. You couldn't keep me away if you tried. I'll come back when I finish senior year. I've already started applying to colleges here. You won't even notice my absence." I promised him, but he didn't answer me, just leaned down and hugged me close to him as though he wasn't going to see me again. It was a scary thought. I could no longer imagine a life without him in it.

"Just know I love you, Poppet. You always have a home here." He said after kissing the top of my head, a solitary tear slid down his face.

"I love you too, Dare."

**_(End Flashback)_**

What I didn't know then was that he already knew I wouldn't be coming back—at least not for a long time—The girl that had been laying on that couch had died. She died mere months after leaving him. I hadn't known then that Renee had married Phil, nor did I know that choosing to live with my father would change me irrevocably. If I had known, I would have fucking begged Darien to keep me; to lock me away in his apartment and never let me out.


	3. Dragons and the Scent of Safety

A/N Well here's another chapter for all you wonderful people I really hope you enjoy! Reviews are as good for the souls as a sexy Darien is good for the sex drive!

* * *

"Tattoos tell stories of crime and passion, punishment and regret. They express an outlaw, antiauthoritarian point of view and communicate a romantic solidarity among society's outcasts."

* * *

My remembrance of a life changing encounter left me drained as I ran a hand lovingly down my aching ribs. I always seemed to re-live the encounters. I couldn't help but liken it to watching a three-dimensional movie. I never understood why that happened but it seemed to be a recurring ailment. I mean, I get it—eidetic memory and all that jazz—but the vividness was chilling.

_It'll go away soon_ my inner hoe's tried to sooth me but my mood continued to be unnaturally somber.

I was on the plush seat I loved curling up on, staring blankly at the wall as my mind ran amuck. I hated it; I needed something to occupy my mind until I could pass out. Deciding on my course of action, I rose from my chair and walked to the kitchen to retrieve my bottle of Jack Daniels from the cherry wood cabinet. Rummaging through the cupboard above the sink, I found a medium sized glass and threw in a few cubes of ice from the freezer before filling it to the brim.

My kitten came up to my feet and meowed softly, begging to be fed as she rubbed back and forth along my legs. I'd had her for about two months now after rescuing her from drowning during one of the many summer rain showers that New York seemed to love. A few days with Lily had caused her to grow on me too much to let her go. To me, she was always a tamed little thing, but around others she managed to be a bigger bitch than I am. Darien found out the hard way when he pissed me off and she chose to dig her claws into his thigh. The lesson was quickly learned. Don't piss off Lily Pad's mama or you will get fucked via kitten claws.

He always did think it was hilarious that I'd become a cat lady though. The first time he had said that to me I had smacked the ever-living crap out of him; he told me later that his ears didn't stop ringing for three hour...too bad the ringing hadn't lasted longer.

I bent down and scratched her ears and spoke softly, "Hey Lily Pad don't worry I'll feed you now."

After getting her food ready I took my first sip of this heavenly spirit, releasing a relieved breath as the familiar burn soothed my agitation. As I continued drinking, I felt a light buzz start to take hold. Once I finished the first glass, I went back to the counter for a refill. Finally satisfied that I'd had enough liquor to take the edge off, I made my way back to the couch and raised the glass to the light to admire the way the brightness bounced off the amber liquid. My eyes once again made their way back to the wall in front of me, now actually studying it. I realized that my artwork encompassed it so fully that couldn't see much of the actual wall. My blank television screen glared back at me, as though angry from its disuse.

After my earlier reminiscing my eyes sought out a particular spot in the corner without my permission. Even though I had known it was there my breath still hitched as I stared at the dream catcher which was hanging all by itself, both showcased in its solitude and hidden like a dirty secret. I studied the nearly religious object even though it fucking hurt to look upon it.

I remember playing in the backyard of a startlingly red house trimmed with a black roof and white windows. I remember my childhood friend, Jacob. We were both sitting in the sand pit surrounded by buckets of water, both of us trying failing miserably, to recreate the sandcastles that we'd seen other children make on the television. We were soaked head to toe with sand sticking to the both of us in clumps. I could still hear Jay—as my younger self was apt to call him—saying to me, "Belly, your hair is sticking out like aletracushhhun"

His face had scrunched up when he realized how wrong that sounded. **"Lectracution,"** he stubbornly exclaimed again. Finally, he just huffed and glaring at my head almost as if he was waiting for my hair to calm down by sheer will alone while yelling, "Belly, your hair looks **_crazy_**!" I had responded to his yelling with wide eyes followed by a childish grin, my sandy hand reaching over to the poor boy ruffling his hair as crazily as mine before running away screaming as he ran after me with his bucket of water.

Most kids had pillow fights or played cops and robbers. Our friendship was one of sand wars, tree climbing, and the gooey taste of Sarah's chocolate chip cookies. I could almost hear the sound of Sarah humming in the kitchen as she cooked ghosted through my mind as I thought back to a time where my innocence was intact, a time before Charlie and Renee's divorce.

As I thought back to one of the only times I was ever graced with the opportunity to be just a child, the face of Jake's toothy grin and eyes that constantly twinkled with happiness, flitted through my mind's eye.

_Jake_, I whispered to myself in my semi-drunken state, my surroundings once more in sharp focus. I honestly hadn't thought of Jake in years, not since my mom had nabbed me and made a mad dash out of Forks. Jacob was a year younger than me, but as a child that hadn't been an issue. My happiest moments were at his house baking with his mom, Sarah Black. God, I missed Sarah. That woman had to be a saint to constantly deal with the mischief Jake and I always managed to cause.

I remember scolding Jake as he tried for the third time to eat the batter I was making. He always had been a tenacious little shit, nothing ever really made him give up trying.

_ "STOP RIGHT THERE MISTER!" My ten year old self bellowed one hand on my hip the other clutching a wooden spoon smeared with cookie dough. Damn did I always sound like a drill sergeant?_

_ I remember seeing Sarah Black laughing quietly to herself as she watched me glare down at her little man, and oh, did he look guilty as sin. Sarah took pity on me and made her way over bending down slightly to whisper in my ear, "If I know anything about my son, it's that no matter how guilty he feels, he is going to come back again and again, as long as there is batter to be had, Cricket."_

_ I looked at Sarah and gave her a sly smile that had her biting her lip trying not to laugh, knowing I was about to play her son. It was an amusing sight to be sure; I needed a stepping stool to even see over the counter, and was yelling at my equally short, ebony haired best friend who happened to have lost his dark skin tone underneath the layers of flour that had exploded all over him. He looked for all the world as though he were shocked I'd dared to yell at him. It was his cookie dough darn it, and he wanted a piece._

_"But Belly…"_

_ "Don't you, 'But Belly', me! You know what you did wrong! Mom and I were making cookies and you keep trying to eat it all up! I want to make cookies for all the family, Jay!" I started out sternly, but ended with puppy dog eyes that worked on everyone with a pulse, fully equipped with a quivering bottom lip and damp eyes. I admit it was a low blow, but hey, only best friends could play so underhandedly. It was my right._

_I shut my mouth suddenly realizing that I had slipped up and called Sarah mom. Even though I had always viewed Jake's mama as my own, I had never said it out loud to anyone. My theatrical tears turned to real ones as I looked at her with wide eyes and whispered, "I'm sorry, Mrs. B."_

_Sarah looked just as shocked as tears filled her eyes; Quickly she knelt by me and wrapped me in a hug. You know the kind only mothers seem capable of giving. The ones that always succeed in making you feel safe, warm, and most of all loved. I took a deep breath inhaling the scent that I would always identify as home; her scent always managed to calm even my worst fears._

_She quietly whispered to me, "Why are you apologizing, baby girl?"_

_At this point big fat tears were rolling down my overheated cheeks. "Because you're Jake's mama, not mine, and I can't call you mom."_

_She started wiping my tears away and kissed my forehead. "Bella honey, I might not be your mother by birth, but you have always been my daughter. I will always be your mama."_

_Jake, who couldn't stand to see me upset looked at me and groaned. The puppy dog eyes were bad enough but now that I was really crying, I could see genuine pain in his eyes. He was a sucker for the damsels! He wanted to be a hero just like those men in the stories his mama and papa would read to him at night. His mama made sure he knew how to take care of a lady!_

_His pained expression changed into one of determination as he came up to me making sure I could see him before whispering, "Belly, please don't feel bad," and hugged me from behind as he continued saying, "you can share my momma, I don't mind."_

_Then his head dramatically dropped down to his chest, leaving white powder to fall from his hair to the floor. Jake flicked his eyes to me and said quite vehemently for a nine year old, " And I'm sorry Belly, I know that the cookies are for everyone. I'll be a good knight and stay away from the dough, I oath it!"_

_ "Really? You mean it, I can keep Mama?" I asked softly._

_At their rapid nods and grinning faces I exclaimed happily, "Thank you! Thank you! Thank you!" bouncing back quickly from my bout of crying._

_I finally turned all of my attention to Jake and hopped down from my stool. I laid a hand on top of my best friends powdered locks and puffed up my chest as I vowed "It's okay, Sir Jake, You can stop eating the dough and I shall forgive my knight! But if you do it again I'll have to throw you to the Dragons."_

_ Jake's grin dropped off his face as he caught on to my joke and adopted a false look of terror and exclaimed, "You wouldn't Belly, you wouldn't!"_

_It was at that point that Billy Black had strolled into the kitchen to see the chaos he had been listening in on from the living room. Taking in the sight, he chuckled lowly while sharing a look with his wife who at this point was in tears of laughter over our usual antics._

_I took a long look at Jake and said, "If you eat the batter, it will fatten you up enough to be a snack. Dragons love yummy snacks! So be nice unless you want to be dragon food!" I quickly pecked him on the cheek and ran away laughing._

_It had taken Jake a few minutes to get over our first kiss, but when he did he came running after me. At this point I was running around the back yard looking for a place that Jake did not already know about. An impossible task since it was his backyard. I'll admit I hadn't thought it through, there was no one else to blame but myself when he snuck up behind me, tackling me into the mud and tickled me until there were tears of laughter running down my face as I screamed "Uncle!" over and over. It was a time of sheer joy._

The sound of a car alarm going off wrenched me from my memories. I took a much needed breath.

It never crossed our minds that our joy would end. We didn't think we would part, until Renee forced us to, until she took me away from the only mother that ever actually took the time to love me as one should. It was years after I left that I could once again view the world through eyes filled with wonderment or be thrilled by the discovery of something new. I would never again spend a day with my best friend, walking in the rain and jumping in puddles, or have Sarah scold us for getting drenched. The thought that nearly broke me was that there weren't any more days where Sarah would tuck me in after braiding my hair or sing Jake and me to sleep as we lay in opposite twin beds.

It wasn't until I was robbed me of the only family that had ever taken the time to know me that I felt that absence within me. I lost my peace. My memories stopped being peaceful the year I turned eleven. That was the year everything started going to shit and the world decided to make me it's bitch...


	4. Loss of Self and Auto-Phobia

**A/N Thank you so much for those of you who took the time to review it always makes me smile when i know that there are those who enjoy what i'm writing and thats why this update is happening but I will remind you that while I write for myself as much as I do it for you, its The positive reinforcement from you all that keeps me updating so please take the Time to review and tell me what you think. Phew now that is out of the way please enjoy this Chapter! **

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**"I Used To Think The Worst Feeling in the world was losing someone you love, but i was wrong ... The worst feeling is the moment when you realize that somewhere along the lines you've lost yourself. " **

"Stop being a sentimental fool, Bella." I muttered to myself, now feeling like my skin was on fire as my cheeks reddened and my throat constricted without my consent. I hated my days off. "There's a reason I work 80 hours a week. Fuck Darien for making me take the day off." I spoke to the air.

Roughly wrenching myself off of my couch as if it bit me in the ass, I started pacing around like a caged animal, pulling at my hair until it hurt. _Why would all these damn recollections come tonight_, _dammit?_

I worked too hard to block everything out. Nothing quite got rid of the memories like my obsessions could. It was only as I dreamt or when needles were involved that I managed to function.

Most addictions need a trigger to begin to take hold on you, mine was no exception. It had flourished because of a senseless boy. That is, if you can call a 107 year old vampire with severe anal retentive problems that thirsted for my blood so much that he decided to play a game, a boy.

_Cheating_, _manipulative bastard_, _just hand me some lighter fluid and my zippo. Then again_, _I'm sure even sparkle puss isn't immune to a_ Mini Uzi u_p the ass,_ Bitchella piped up savagely.

_If only_, the rest of me sighed.

A game that was the reason I was sitting here—in the huge and desolately empty apartment that I shared with Darien—chugging down whiskey.

"FUCK!" I screamed while hurling my empty glass into the wall.

"Fucking great, now I have to clean the damn glass before Darien gets back." Letting an unrestrained scream rip from my throat, I stalked over to my bag and rummaged through it roughly, looking for my cigarettes, finally finding them after searching for what seemed like forever.

"I swear to fucking God, women's purses must have black soul-sucking holes in them. Shit's never where it should be." I continued to rant.

I quickly lit one and took a huge drag, my hands shaking violently. The smoke went down harshly, making my chest feel battered and abused. Smoking it to the filter didn't help calm me; neither did the two other ones I lit up in succession.

Nothing would save me tonight, I could already tell.

I couldn't comprehend the reason I was in this morbidly retrospective mood, tonight of all nights, but whatever the reason it seemed that it was going to be one of those nights. The ones that rendered me incapable of breathing as each recollection pounded me into submission. I usually excelled at keeping everything in, never really prone to expressing my grief. What irked me the most was that I knew I was better than this. The thought that he still managed to debilitate me was repulsive.

It was unfathomable that after becoming incapable of tears, I now found myself fighting them down.

_I thought I was done with this. Hasn't there been enough suffering?_ I asked myself, lamenting ever having met Edward.

_'No, you haven't. What makes you think that your pain will ever suffice? It won't ever be enough to make up for all the mistakes you made. Whatever happens to you now was borne from your own naiveté and foolishness. You allowed them to strip your soul. You abandoned your family, just as easily as Edward abandoned you in the woods.' _a voice chimed from the recesses of my mind—one that I always tried to keep under lock and key—the tone both mocking and incensed.

"Shut up, Shut up. Just Shut The Fuck Up." I screamed as I fell to my knees, throwing my hands over my ears as though it would keep the voice away. "It wasn't my fault," I repeatedly whimpered while rocking back and forth like a child. A part of me understood that it really hadn't been through any fault of my own. However, my overbearing conscience would never believe my innocence, and I couldn't even fucking blame it.

Where the hell do you go to forget when the one reminding you is yourself? Easy; you _can't._ You never escape when your mind is the asylum.

My heartbreak and anger finally unleashed in a torrid stream of tears that didn't help alleviate the crushing burden left by his phantom-like presence. This is what I have been reduced to, drunk and laying in a fetal position on the floor, my screams turning into sobs that wracked through my body relentlessly. Edward had broken his promise. That bastard promised me that I wouldn't remember him and his godforsaken family of sparkly disco balls of venom. He promised that it would get better with time as if my puny human mind was merely a sieve. What a fucking joke.

Once again, I had no control of the depredation of my mind. Visions danced behind my clenched eyelids, pouring out in quick succession with seemingly no end in sight.

**Flashback**

**(Bella's house in Forks, One Year Prior)**

Edward. Fucking. Cullen.

That controlling, judgmental, holier-than-thou bastard spent months emptily declaring never to leave me, only to go around and do just that. Even as I stared at his face that last time—his beautifully cold and unemotional face mocking—I hadn't believed the words that were coming out of his mouth. It was hours after he'd left me broken in my own fucking living room—recounting everything he and his merry band of sparkle fucks had done to me—till it sunk in that Edward was really gone.

My last moments with him were poisoned by his harsh words. In my panic, I ran out to my porch after him and screamed for him to come back to me. Told him that I would forgive him, if only he would return, but no amount of pleading or crying would bring him back. My pleas fell on deaf ears.

My knees buckled beneath the pain, motionless for an indeterminable time. It could have been seconds, minutes, hours…even I couldn't tell you. Losing all sense of time, I finally slipped into a blissful coma.

I woke up later, finding myself in my bed—with no recollection of how I had ended up there—ensconced beneath layers of blankets that did nothing to warm me. Shrugging away the cobwebs from my mind, I guessed that Charlie was the one to bring me here. For a second my mind refused to remember what it was that had caused the dry tear tracks I felt underneath my fingers. My memory only returned when Forks proved itself uninhabited and hollowed from all forms of vampirism.

That's when the spell broke. It seemed as though the haze I had been encumbered in for the last year and a half had been viciously ripped away in the absence of any vampiric manipulation. I was helpless against the memories that came back in a rush that left me struggling for breath, and upon closer inspection left me heartless. With each one, I came closer to clarity. The weight of what I discovered slammed into me. It was right then, as I sat in my bed that I understood that even with my ability to block Edward from my mind, and Alice from my future didn't save me in the end. I wasn't immune to their ability to enrapture humans. I was just as hypnotized as every other unfortunate being to be unlucky enough to cross paths with those psychotic corpses. In that moment I found out that learned helplessness wasn't something to be trifled with. It was a disgusting condition that stripped you of everything.

Both my brain and body seemed to shudder with this information. The overload had me running into the bathroom and expelling all of its contents, the taste of bile in my mouth was rancid. When I could finally stop heaving, I went to the sink and brushed my teeth until my gums bled.

A year and a half of my fucking life wasted. I gave him my soul, but all he coveted was my humanity, a fact made glaringly obvious in his absence.

It saddened me that after giving this being all of me, he had decided to cast me aside. I knew that most families were dysfunctional, but I couldn't forgive them this. They lost their right to be called my family when they held their tongues against Edward and Alice's many transgressions. The Cullen's were the only ones who had taken the time to take care of me since Sarah. Well, I mistook their use of my humanity to further their image as care.

Their façade was a grotesque pantomime that slighted those who were truly benevolent. They were little more than the monsters that myths made them out to be. I had thought that their in-human beauty was heavenly, but after today it was glaringly obvious that their _humanity_ was a farce. I had been a project, a pet, nothing more than a distraction to be used until they decided to get the hell out of dodge. They were certainly capable of leaving on a whim and disappearing into the depths of whatever hell had created them.

From the very beginning it seemed I was ensnared by Edward. He thrust me into a world that wasn't my own, threw me into waters so deep, so suffocating and daunting that the mere thought of moving on was jocular at best. I felt like a child who had innocently followed a stranger who promised me chocolate. I thought that if he loved me even a tenth of how much I loved him, that it would be enough.

I was a moron for thinking he was capable of even that. The saddest part of this whole thing is that love was truly the farthest thing from my mind when I came to forks. In hindsight, I was manipulated into loving him. He played an award winning role in the beginning, doing everything in his power to render me completely dependent on him and his family. He was a gentleman straight out of a classical novel, full of smiles and gentle caresses. Never once did I realize that men like that could only exist in a fucking novel—that those characters were unrealistic in their essence—two dimensional and unvaried at best. Once he had me foolishly believing the mask that came naturally to him, the real mind games began.

It happened in stages that were leisurely deceptive. Immortals perceive a few months as nothing more than seconds would seem to a human. Why wouldn't he invest in them to break his human?

He knew of my need to belong, and I allowed him to take such control over me. When you spend your whole life serving the needs of the ones that really should be taking care of you, all you really end up wanting is someone to just let you be. In a flash, it seemed that the Bella that had once been independent and self-assured disappeared into the casts that Edward and Alice had decided to stuff me into. Sure, I had been shy at times…however, this quivering mass of meek obedience was merely a cadaver. The Cullen's had massacred everything that inherently defined me I would have chosen the slaughter of my body over this.

The first time Edward had let his meticulous illusion crack was a truly terrifying experience. He hadn't seen my tattoo before and the fury in his obsidian eyes had been a reality check that I was incapable of heeding. Without my consent a freezing hand had grabbed my left arm and roughly raised it above my head as he inspected its content. After what felt like an eternity he turned his eyes towards me and snarled, showing me the monster he always carefully concealed. Realizing his blunder, Edward ran and disappeared. Had there not been bruises on my arms, I would have thought I had imagined it.

That he loathed something that was so precious to me should have clued me in, don't you think?

It was days before I saw him again, his return brought about crushing lies and even more unnatural influencing. I found myself forgiving him without a second thought.

If Edward was the mastermind behind everything, it was only because he had found me first. His sister was a close runner up.

Alice, a tiny woman by any measure, was gifted with infinite techniques of domination and no conscience to stop her from wreaking havoc. She always looked at me with eyes that bespoke malevolence hidden beneath an innocently grinning face.

She was constantly scolding me in that grating, bell-like voice of hers. "Bella, I'm just trying to make you beautiful, as beautiful as you can be. It would make Edward so happy. Don't you want to be beautiful? You should want to make your love happy," as though I was worthless without her tutelage. The repeated barrage of slurs and nit- picking had implanted within me, feelings of severe inadequacy.

Their joint effort left me conditioned better than Pavlov's dogs—only getting rewarded for good behavior—feeding me scraps of affection. Edward relentlessly pulled me close enough to tantalize, never going further than propriety would allow before pushing me far away from him, tantalizing and taunting me. He became the prize that I continuously yearned for, set upon the highest of pedestals while leaving me far beneath him.

Every meal was chosen for me—denied the basic freedoms any cognizant being was awarded. I was told when to sleep, study, and wake up. My clothes were chosen for me, I could no longer drive myself anywhere after Edward had his sister, Rosalie took out the spark plugs out of my car. I was watched almost constantly—my only reprieve was when Charlie would be home for dinner or I was showering—and why wouldn't my actions be watched? They were, after all, doing it out of _love_. They didn't want any harm to befall their adorably clumsy—not to mention precious—_chattel_. It seemed that after having met them my clumsiness only became worse.

The more I believed in their lies, the more I could barely function without Edward's consent. Then the James issue occurred and it just reinforced my feelings of dependency.

Darien was the only part of me that I managed to keep clandestine. While Edward was able to cajole every minute facet of who I was, Darien stayed safely tucked away in my mind where even I forgot about him, at first we had emailed but when thing's started going south I cut off all contact with him. One night, I deleted all proof I had of his existence, without understanding why the hell I was doing it. One more of those damn feelings that I couldn't stop. He was too pure to ever be sullied by anyone else. While my mind had failed in saving me, its salvation of my best friend was enough for me to be indebted to its inner workings.

I allowed them to erase me from the inside out, to dazzle, coerce, and seduce me into following their every whim.

I'd never abhorred shopping until I discovered that Alice's frozen existence revolved almost exclusively around it. It became the bane of my existence. Her incessant manipulations began to eat at me, reminiscent of acid melting through bone.

I suffered for hours that bled into days, sitting in the vast bathroom inside of the Cullen mansion, being plucked, prodded, and changed from head to toe. Whenever I would sit through the Bella Barbie sessions—looking into the mirror, frantically trying to find myself within this imposter staring back at me—I never could find a resemblance. I was buried, rendered incapable of speaking out to these people who had become my family, silenced by my need to find a safe haven.

I was never safe though. I merely allowed myself to be lulled into a false sense of security. Where were my instincts then? Edward had told me once that his kind was built to be predators. He had warned me that everything about them was designed to the core to both attract their victims and to make those victims come complacently. However, he'd also told me that, like all animals, human beings were innately capable of sensing that his kind was dangerous. What _fire crotch_ failed to tell me however, was that the mind rape occurred instantaneously when a vampire chose his or her prey.

_Where the fuck was my instinct to survive when faced with the ultimate predator, and tried to claw my way out of the hell I was living_ _in?_

I wish I could say that it had ended there. After I had successfully become a diminutive shadow of my former self, Edward broke me even more.

They say, a woman always knows, I should just tattoo the words on my lily-white as like scripture.

I started noticing how Edward would disappear some nights—thinking I was blissfully slumbering—making sure to always be back by the time I woke up. His disposition altered after each encounter, simultaneously happier and more controlling. At first, his disappearances occurred only once a month before it condensed slowly to every week, and then it would occur a few times a week. I stayed silent it's not like I could prove anything. The vertically challenged pixie bitch covered for her brother each time he lied to me, saying he was going away to deal with the thirst. Yeah, the fucker had even started going away for days at a time. The first time I had voiced my concerns to her, she just waved her hand in the air as though the mere thought of Edward's indiscretion was impossible.

I kept my silence up, each time he would leave me to go. It wasn't until I had found a strand of long blonde hair too dark to be Rosalie's platinum tresses that I was incapable of denying it. The next time, it was the scent of the woman's perfume. It became almost a ritual for me to find different proofs for what I already knew. I played my part bidding my time, their meek little virgin girl would do nothing. They had trained me to be the perfect pet, and breaking that mentality was excruciatingly painful.

Golden boy seemed incapable of stopping his adultery— his need to dip his wick into some woman who wasn't me—too important. It was degrading. It took three months of sleepless nights to finally confront Edward about his illicit affair. Even then it drained me to utter those three words.

Looking straight into his ochre eyes, I asked, "Who is she?"

His surprise had been tangible; the perfect vampire hadn't thought I would ever be capable of questioning him. It stung that he thought me so dense that I wouldn't notice his indiscretions. The thought that he would lay with another woman before coming to hold me as I slept was a repugnant one. I felt as though my skin was vibrating off of in an attempt to get away from the realization that the Cullen's had defiled me in every way bar actual rape. His family had left me to live in darkness, like I was undeserving of the truth. They watched as I made an absolute fool of myself, allowing him to touch me, sleep next to me, hold me when I meant nothing. I felt used as they watched my defilement in silence. It was a bitter pill to swallow—knowing that even as I threw myself brazenly at him—I wasn't up to par with the women Edward found pleasure in…I was unwanted.

I tore myself apart, tortured myself to near insanity imagining the various women he had lain with. I no longer felt like a woman—stripped of all femininity by this sadistic imposter.

Still, I was powerless to fight the need to stay in his good graces. Regardless of all the agony he had put me through, I couldn't leave him. Like a heroin addict needing a fix, I needed Edward. That's truly how pathetic a creature I had been reduced to.

Once more, he adopted his role quite convincingly, begging my forgiveness for his infidelity, to look into his eyes, and believe him.

I gave in and once more was compelled to give in, all I could do was whisper out brokenly, "Promise you won't do it again. That it was the last time. Do it for me" I beseeched him.

In true Edward fashion he kissed my forehead and said "I promise, Love" and for a while he was good on his word, attentive, loving. However, it wasn't long before he started up again.

Each time I caught him he would make his promises—each time I was made to believe him—every time he claimed it was the end, it was always "I promise, Love."

**Flashback (Earlier That Night)**

This time we were in my house when I confronted him, for the first time refusing to look at his eyes. In that moment he repulsed me.

It was a cycle that appeared never-ending and everlasting until I broke it, by breaking myself. I could feel the insanity eating me. I finally felt my soul rip apart as I snapped. I just barely registered the mournful wail of a wolf in the distance, my body convulsing at the agony its howl intoned. This moment in time was a culmination of all the duplicity that bound me to this deranged monster. I couldn't listen to him utter his empty promise again.

I wrenched myself away from his arms running into my kitchen, picked up the sharpest knife I had and held it right above my unmarred wrist.

"Is this what you fucking wanted? To break the _human_?" I hissed, the word rolling off my tongue, tasting poisonous.

"Well good fucking job, asshole, you succeeded. Now you better fucking TELL ME." I had started in a semi- composed voice, but with each word my voice had risen until it had reached screeching proportions. It hurt _my_ ears, so, I could only imagine how it felt like to his supernatural ones.

'_Good. Let that motherfucker __**hurt.'**_ Bitchella piped up. I had missed the crazy bitch in my head. In Edwards' presence, she had all but disappeared.

His silence was deafening.

"GODDAMN YOU TO FUCKING HELL, JUST FUCKING TELL ME, EDWARD!"

Calming me in that moment took gargantuan effort, but I managed to speak in a quieter tone.

In a chilling voice that I barely recognized as my **own**, I continued. "Listen up Edward; you and I both know that if I spill even _one_ drop of blood you'll be on me quick as lightning. What with me being your _singer_ and all. Now, no one wants to have to play hide-the-corpse…so, if I were you I'd choose to be honest, for once." Malice was evident in each syllable.

I hadn't noticed, until then, that I had been pacing as I yelled at Edward, but when I looked around, me I saw that I was in my living room.

Eventually, he asked, as though speaking to a wounded animal that would lash out at any moment, "Tell you what, Isabella?" I flinched at his use the name he knew I detested with a passion.

For the first time, I voiced the most acerbic thought that had consumed my every waking thought.

In voice shaking with the weight of my emotions, I whispered, "It will always be her, won't it? She will always mean more to you. Why couldn't you ever just choose me?"

With hard eyes he responded in a voice laced with indifference. "Compared to her, you are nothing. You were a passing fancy to a bored immortal. You entertained my family and me while I strengthened my control."

I never thought that I would be jealous of a dog, but in that moment I wished that Edward was as compassionate as Old Yeller's owner and would shoot me instead of killing me with his emotional terrorism.

"Control...you mean to tell me that—" my voice hitched, the words refusing to come out. In my grief, I made the mistake of looking directly into his eyes, what I saw there was far from comforting.

Pure hatred mixed heavily with triumphant humor shone at me as Edward began stalking over to me like the predator he was. I was spellbound, incapable of movement. I could do nothing but listen as he began to speak. "Listen closely to me, Isabella, my family and I are leaving. You will not see or hear of us again, and you _will forget_ about our existence as we shall forget yours." His voice adopted a demanding tone as if he were willing me to internalize the orders he spat out.

With those words, he gave me one last lingering look before he parted with, "Take care of yourself; don't do anything reckless. Charlie needs you."

I could only stand there, stunned, as the knife I was clutching clanked to the floor.


End file.
